Show Some Compassion
by madasmonty
Summary: Tom Riddle has got Ginny Weasley pregnant. But can she keep the child? And what will happen when a certian Boy-Who lived begins to feel things he shouldn't be feeling for Tom? Tom/Ginny and eventual Harry/Tom. COMPLETE.
1. That First Time

**Show Some Compassion**

**A/N: All characters in this story belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing. I get nothing from this and I write only for my own amusement and because I have some wild thought that someone out there is actually enjoying it.**

Chapter One

That First Time

The first time, it had been in the heat of passion, _angry _passion. He had been so furious with her insolence, and, at the same time, _incredibly _attracted to her. She had been standing in front of him, hands on hips, red hair falling sexily about her shoulders, skin flushed with emotion, and when they had first made physical contact – him grabbing her wrist as she went to slap him – it just all bubbled over and he had kissed her before he had thought it through totally, and the fact that she responded instantly had both surprised him and turn him on more so. And so, he had pushed her back against his desk, his hands already working their way under her blouse and hers threading almost painfully in his short hair. After that first time, after feeling the…_release_ it gave him, being with her, he knew he would go back for more.

Tom knew showing up in the middle of the night would infuriate her, which was probably exactly the reason he did it. He told himself it was because she deserved it; that if she allowed herself to sleep with him, she deserved to be treated like some prostitute. But the truth of the matter was he _liked _it when she was enraged. He liked seeing her get all emotional and it added to the passion they shared.

Eventually, he found he couldn't stop himself going to her. To quote a _highly _overrated movie, she was like his own personal brand of heroin. And over time, what happened between them became less angry and crazy, and more…_caring_, and loving. No less passionate, but to know they were treating each other in a more romantic way just made Tom loathe himself even more until he was back in her arms.

Sometimes, he forced himself to wait; he would sit in the Chamber. He would make himself stay there, fingers cutting into his palms with the tension, until waiting just became unbearable and he had to go to her. Every night, he managed to make himself wait a little bit longer, and every night, no matter how late, she was still up, and to know that she _waited _for him, that she knew he would come, made Tom even angrier.


	2. All Her Own

Chapter Two

All Her Own

A baby. A baby all her own. A laughing, dimpled creature that would fill the empty hours of her long days. Someone to love and care for, someone who needed her and relied on her and trusted her completely. Ginny smiled at the thought.

But what did she want, a boy or a girl? A boy maybe, to play catch with, and laugh at his antics, and watch him grow tall and strong and good. Or perhaps a girl, to teach sewing and baking, to go shopping with and give advice to when boys came knocking on the door. Ginny smiled at the thought. Yes, a girl. She wouldn't be heartbroken if it was a boy, but she wanted a girl.

"I could call her Eleanor," Ginny said to herself softly. "Eleanor. Ellie, for short."

A thousand images of little Ellie flooded her mind. Ellie just born and dressed in a pink sleeper; Ellie taking her first toddling steps; Ellie letting Ginny tie ribbons in her hair and declaring that she didn't like school and boys were mean; a smart girl with braids and freckles; a beautiful young woman in a prom dress; boyfriends and makeup and arguing with Mum but always forgiving in the end.

"That's the life I want for you, Ellie," Ginny said, placing her hand where a bump would appear in a few months' time. "Just you and me and…" _Tom?_

What about him? She would have to tell him at some point, and there was no doubt that it was his baby. How would he react to being a father?. She would have to tell him at some point. But not yet. Not yet.

Her precious secret felt like a warm glow inside of her. It was as if she had swallowed a hot drink, and the after-effects lingered in her chest, warming and nourishing her. The days didn't stretch out endlessly in front of her any more. They would soon be filled with preparation and excitement and anticipation.

Ginny clung to her secret, not wishing to share it with anyone in the world. It was hers, and hers alone. And at least for now, she could keep it.


	3. Records and Revelations

Chapter Three

Records and Revelations

This night, he was going for a record.

The night before, he had made the mistake of sleeping in Ginny's room all night, and when he had woken up, she was wearing his shirt. How domestic was that? But he couldn't find it in himself to leave her, just like that, so he had stayed with her, allowing himself to pull her back into bed.

He shook his head, and pushed himself off of the desk and going round to sit in his chair, gripping the edge of the table with a sigh. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted her, how much he _needed _her sometimes.

"Are you gonna stay in here the whole night? Can I go to sleep?"

_Yes_, the Master wanted to say, _And you don't ever have to stay up for me again, you cheeky cow. Just assuming you can walk in here…! _

But he didn't. Instead, he smiled at her – actually _smiled _at her – and got up, muttering some excusing about just doing stuff.

Ginny smiled back, slightly shyly, before turning to lead the way out the door. Tom looked at her, and, before he could stop himself…

"Why do you do it?"

Ginny turned, surprised, "Why do I do what?"

Tom swallowed; no going back now, "W-why do you sleep with me? _Me_!"

Ginny looked down, and Tom knew instantly that he really didn't have to remind her – she probably thought about it all the time.

She stared down at her feet as she spoke, practically whispering, "It's wrong. I _know _it's wrong. The very _last _thing I should be doing is hopping in the sack with _you_."

_She regrets it_, he suddenly thought, and he was shocked to discover knowing that hurt more than it should.

"Do you…regret it?" he asked, ashamed at his own weakness; he knew the answer, so why ask? God, he'd been around her too long. Ginny looked up suddenly, eyes wide.

"What? _No!_" she exclaimed, "I don't regret it, at all,"

"Oh," Tom said stiffly, "But, why? You and I should be worst enemies."

Ginny opened her mouth to reply but Tom suddenly smiled.

"You know what? Don't answer that. This whole conversation has been stupid. It's just sex, right? Just me showing my absolute control over you."

He kept babbling on, unable to stop as he saw Ginny's eyes widen even more so in shock and, perhaps even…_hurt_.

"Just sex?" she repeated, effectively cutting off his rambling. He shrugged noncommittally.

"If that's how you feel," he said coolly.

"It's not how I feel at all! _You _were the one saying that!" she cried, "Don't go around putting words in my mouth!"

She stepped closer to him during this, threateningly, but Tom found himself horrified to see tears in her eyes.

"D-don't cry," he whispered, silently hating himself for again showing such weakness. He gingerly reached out towards her, placing his hands on her arms. She sniffled slightly, wiping away the odd stray tear.

"Oh Tom, you don't understand," she said slowly, "You think you're so bad, so evil that you don't realize that someone might…feel something more for you. But you're not bad or evil – I just know you're not. No-one is. And you may have done a lot of bad stuff, but you've also given me all I could ask for,"

Tom shook his head, dropping his arms, "Yeah? Like _what_?"

Ginny swallowed nervously, before placing her hands on his shoulders, standing up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"I'm pregnant."


	4. How Long?

Chapter Four

How Long?

His eyes flashed and his face froze suddenly.

"How long have you kept this from me?"

"Not long. Only a few days. Think of it, Tom. In a few months, you're going to be a father."

Tom _tsked_ softly.

Ginny faltered. " Don't you want to be a father?"

"Do you have any idea the responsibility a child is? The trouble?" Tom asked. "I'm trying to regain my power here."

"But a baby!" Ginny protested. "A bouncing, laughing, lovable baby. _Your_ baby. Isn't that worth the trouble?"

Tom looked thoughtful.

"Not now. It's not the right time for a baby."

Ginny shook her head. "But Tom," she said. "You're talking about it as if it's possible to put it off. You can't stall a pregnancy. It's _going_ to happen in eight months."

"Put off?" Tom said. "No, Gin. Of course not."

Ginny relaxed a little. At least he was acknowledging that the baby was coming.

"Put off?" Tom continued. "No. Stop? Yes."

Ginny backed up a step. The strange glittering of his eyes frightened her.

"What do you mean?" she asked slowly.

Tom advanced, pulling out a long, slender object from his pocket.

"Tom? What are you doing?" Ginny asked, recognizing his black wand.

"I'm sorry I have to do this," Tom said, looking anything but sorry." But you leave me little choice. You should have been more careful."

He pointed the wand at her abdomen.

Ginny's eyes grew large, and her hands shot out to protect herself.

There was no mercy in his eyes as muttered the spell.

A sharp pain shot through Ginny, and it did not subside but got stronger with every passing second. She felt a trickle on her leg, and looked down. A patch on her blue skirt was wet and dark, and spreading rapidly.

And she realized what he had done.

"_No!_" she screamed. "No! Tom! No!"

The pain was overwhelming. Ginny sank to the floor. It hurt so much that she couldn't focus. Everything was blurry except one clear concept: her baby was dying. She struggled a few feet, trying to use it to get up. If she could get herself to Madam Pomfrey maybe she could save the baby. But the pain was too much. Her arms failed her, and she collapsed half on the chair and half on the floor.

Tom stood over her, shaking his head rather regretfully.

"Next time, try to be more careful, dearest. We don't want a repeat of this unpleasant experience, do we?"

Hate overwhelmed Ginny, but was drowned out in pain. There was nothing but pain.

Tom shook his head, and gave her one last disgusted look before leaving the room.

Her blood was pooling on the floor. It smeared over the chair where she had tried to hoist herself up, staining the pristine white. It ran down her legs and soaked her once tidy skirt.

Tears streaked down Ginny's cheeks. She sobbed for her pain, but mostly for her baby. Her little Ellie that now would never be.

"My baby. My baby," she whispered over and over, not having the strength to say more. She couldn't even shout for help. The pain was so intense now that she could hardly breathe. Her vision blurred and she lost all sense of time.

The darkness that came was a welcome relief.


	5. Her Saviour

Chapter Five

Her Saviour

The voices were faint. They were out in the hallway, Ginny guessed. They sounded familiar, but Ginny was too tired to try to recognize them. She was floating alone in deep water. It was dark and cold, and Ginny could feel the tongues of icy water licking at her sides. But no, it wasn't water. It was molasses. Sluggish, sticky molasses that she was struggling through towards the voices.

"Well there's really no point in hating it then is there?" a voice said, opening the door to the office.

Luna. The voice belonged to Luna. What was Luna doing in an ocean of molasses? Come to think of it, what was _Ginny_ doing in a sea of molasses? Molasses was something cowboys put on bread in the Old West movies. People didn't swim in it. But then why was she wet and cold?

The footsteps got closer.

"Ginny!" Luna gasped. She gently shook Ginny's shoulder. "Are you ok? Hello?"

"Help," Ginny croaked. That single word took most of her energy.

"Ginny?" Luna gasped, sounding frightened.

Light flooded Ginny's closed eyes. She hunched closer to the chair in an effort to protect herself from the cruel light which pierced her closed lids.

Luna gasped.

"You're covered in blood!"

Blood? Ginny's addled mind struggled to comprehend it. Why was she covered in blood? And then it came back to her. The fog of her mind lifted, and what it exposed was so dark, so awful that Ginny wished it would come back. She remembered what Tom had done – to her, and to her baby, her Ellie. A sob caught in her throat.

Luna shook her gently.

"Open your eyes, Lucy. Tell me what happened. How did you get like this?"

Ginny shook her head. She couldn't open her eyes. Perhaps if they stayed closed she would go back to sleep, and then wake up from this nightmare. To open her eyes was to acknowledge that this anguish-soaked world was the real one.

In the end, it was the pain that made her open her eyes. It had been building up slowly from a dull ache and now was progressing to sharp pains.

"What happened?" Luna asked, bending over her.

Ginny looked into Luna's eyes.

"My baby," she whispered. "My baby's dead."

It took so much effort just to stay awake, to stay conscious. Ginny gathered whatever strength she had left in her.

"Help me," she managed to choke out.

The pain was becoming overwhelming once more. Ginny knew that if she lost herself in that cold, dark sea again, she would not come back, but she could feel herself slipping away from shore.

"Come on," Luna said, slowly prying Ginny away from the chair.

Ginny didn't have any strength to stand. She leaned entirely on Luna, who wobbled under the unexpected weight.


	6. Empty Inside

Chapter Six

Empty Inside

Ginny stared at the wall. She felt empty, as if she had been a glass of water that someone had poured out. There seemed to be no use in doing anything. There wasn't even any use in getting out of bed. The door to her bedroom opened, but she didn't bother turning around.

"I brought you something to eat," Luna said.

"Go away," Ginny replied, not moving.

"You've got to eat something," Luna argued.

Ginny didn't respond. The last three trays that Luna had brought had been ignored, just like this one would be. Ginny wasn't hungry. She didn't think she'd ever be hungry again.

Luna sighed, and put the new tray next to the old one.

"There's no good in you starving yourself, you know," she said.

"What's the point in eating?" Came the reply. "Besides, I'm not hungry."

"I know you don't feel like it, but you've got to eat."

Luna sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I can't imagine what you're going through, but…"

Ginny jerked around.

"No, you can't!" she snapped. "My baby's dead. My baby's dead, and I have nothing to live for, nothing to hope for. All I had was Ellie and even she's been taken away from me. I don't have any reason to keep going!"

Tears spilled down Ginny's face, and she began to shake from the force of her sobs. Luna put a comforting arm around her shoulders, and let her cry.


	7. In Her Daughter's Blood

Chapter Seven

In Her Daughters Blood

Ginny was awoken by an unfamiliar sound.

The sound of laughter.

Cruel laughter.

Tom stood at the end of her bed, a pale ghost in the Hospital Wing gloom. His dark hair was near invisible and his deep green eyes looked almost black in the night-time darkness. He looked tired and haggard, as if he hadn't slept well since his last visit to Ginny.

He was staring right at her. His coal black eyes like two burning suns, only burning not with warmth. No. His eyes burnt with ice and cold and hatred. Sheer hatred for her.

Ginny knew that shouldn't hurt her. But it did. She felt his anger like a razor through the ribs. It was too cold and calculating to be a knife. It was a razor of anger.

"Hello, my dear." Tom said in a cold calm voice, "Miss me?"

"I hate you." Ginny hissed, her eyes angry flints.

"I know you do." Tom said triumphantly. "But I'm afraid I need you to do something for me."

"Me? What the hell could I do for you?" Ginny asked.

"I need to get a message out to the good people of Hogwarts. I want you to do it for me. With his." He held out a grey bucket with a paintbrush in it.

Ginny stared at the bucket doubtfully. She had no idea what it was.

"_'The chamber of secrets has been opened, enemies of the Heir beware'_"Tom whispered. "Inscribed in blood on the wall. How very dramatic." He flashed a smile "How very... ironic."

Ginny whispered "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh. Didn't I say?" Tom gave a small laugh, "You will be writing that message upon the wall. In your daughter's blood."

Ginny's heart stopped beating for a second. _Her daughter's blood?_

Tom sighed and walked around the bed to her side, she tried to scramble away but knew it was useless. He would always find her. He was stronger than she. He held the bucket out to show Ginny the thick syrupy red liquid inside it. She felt her stomach turn as the stench of metal hit her full-force and she thought she was going to throw up.

Her daughter's blood. Little Ellie's blood.

Ginny could hold it in no longer. She heaved and vomited all over her bed sheets. She felt acid rise in her throat and she was covered in sweat and the blood was still there. So red. So thick.

"I managed to siphon it off the floor," Tom said, looking completely uncaring that she was sick. "It was so sweet, Gin. The little child's blood. _Our child._"

Suddenly he was right in her face, his pale skin filling her whole sight. His deep green eyes were like bottomless pits and she felt like she was drowning in them...

"Does that sicken you Ginny? The thought that the child you carried was mine. I know your hatred for me. You must be dying to know your little child was mine. Not Harry's."

"Shut UP!" Ginny yelled, pushing him away roughly. "You don't know anything! You don't know ME!"

His eyes flashed from green to red in a split second. His hands were pinning her to the wall behind her bed in an instant, cold icy hands that had once touched her so lovingly. Ginny felt something thin jab into her neck. His wand. He was going to kill her. He could so easily kill her right then and there and nobody would know who had done it.

"I could murder you right now." He hissed in her ear. "I could kill you this very moment and nobody would ever know what had become of poor little Ginny Weasley." The wand dug deeper into her neck and Ginny gasped out in pain and surprise. Then he pulled the wand back and spun it in his long fingers. "But I won't I need you to this for me Ginny." He leant forward slowly, not enough for it to invade her personal space, but close enough to seem like a threat. "If you don't then I will make you wish you were never even born."

Ginny swallowed. She'd like to have thought she was brave enough to stop him, to fight. To do something. But, at heart, she was weak. She feared death and she had to do what he told her.

Ginny Weasley took the brush coated with her daughter's blood and walked to the corridor...


	8. Forbidden Love

Chapter Eight

Forbidden Love

Harry cried out as Tom shoved him hard against the wall. Stars exploded across his closed lids as the back of his head collided with the stone; he rocked from the impact of it.

He held out a shaking hand. The crimson drops were the brightest thing in the dim chamber.

"Is it worth it, Tom?" he whispered. "Is _this _worth it?"

He didn't say anything, but in answer took Harry's fingers with his own and raised them to his lips. Harry shuddered as his tongue darts out, kissing it, _tasting _it -

Harry swayed slightly. The movement of Tom's mouth against his skin sent ripples through his body in a way that shouldn't happen.

_Oh God, please stop… stop…_

But he could not summon breath, let alone words to speak.

_Venom. Blood. Ink. Poison._

"Your blood is mine, Harry Potter," Tom stated calmly. "Just as everything of yours belongs to me. Your mind, your body, your soul. Where I end, you begin. A mere extension of myself."

"You're wrong," he said, tightly. "I'm _nothing _of you. I'm nothing _like_ you."

"Harry Potter," Tom said softly. "So very unchanged. Still waiting for nobilityand loveto prevail. How weak you are."

The words shouldn't have hurt, but they did.

There was a pause.

"Of course you are here to grant my request. I stay tucked away in the Chamber here, let everyone believe I am gone. You come down here, oh so _noble_, and let me have my wicked way with you." His smile was cold and triumphant.

Then, all of a sudden, his hands were on Harry's shoulders, pulling him sharply towards him. If the chamber is cold then his fingers were ice. A gasp tore itself from Harry's throat.

"Would you like that, Potter?" he whispered.

Slowly, he drew his enemy's head towards him. Harry's mind slammed to a halt. The world blurred at the edges and he gripped Tom's arms to steady himself. He tasted ink and parchment and the hours of darkness, and beneath that, something unpleasant and bitter... perhaps this is what Basilisk venom tastes like.

"I have waited a long time for this moment." Tom murmured through their kiss.

Harry didn't beg for mercy. He knew Tom had none.


	9. Mourning in the Morning

Chapter Nine

Mourning in the Morning

Morning, traditionally, should come to chase the night terrors away.

It doesn't.

Daylight brings no comfort when the nightmares are real. And, when all is said and done, it seems oddly fitting that Harry Potter's second year at Hogwarts would end with a funeral.

It is a beautiful ceremony, too. A pale, sun spills across the dew-drenched grounds. A dawn chorus of phoenix song, filled with anguished lamentation. It seems the entire wizard world has come to mourn the loss. A sea of unfamiliar faces, all pale with grief. The blankness of shock permeates the service.

And in the centre of it all, the single white tombstone marred only by the sharp-cut black letters engraved upon its smooth surface.

_Ginevra Weasley, 1980-1996._

Harry stands at the forefront, dressed in black, his face blazing. He is stoic and upright and tearless, strong in his undaunted defiance.

It is him that everyone watches, him that everyone whispers about behind their hands. Not Ron and Hermione, who cling to each other like the sole survivors in a drowning world. Not Dumbledore, who gives a subdued, heartbreaking speech about heroism and the darkest hour being just before the dawn, the sparkling light in his blue eyes gone out forever.

Look at him, the mourners say. So brave. Not even crying. His parents would be proud.

He ignores the whispers. He merely stands there, a strange look in those slanting dark eyes as the coffin is slowly lowered into the ground. _Rest in peace._ That phrase always irked him. What does it matter how she rests? Dead is dead. He knows that is nearly always true.

"I suppose it's over then," says Ron numbly. "Without Ginny… that's it, isn't it?"

"Oh no," Harry murmurs. "No. This is only the beginning."

"Harry's right," says Hermione firmly. She clenches her violently trembling fists. "We can't give up now. Ginny would want us to fight."

Harry merely looks at her. That wasn't what he meant, but he keeps his silence.

"Harry… promise me you won't do anything stupid." Ron looks entreatingly at his best friend through red-rimmed eyes. "I can't lose you, too."

"He's right, Harry," Hermione says.

"Leave it to the Order. I mean it," Ron says.

Harry smiles distantly, his voice very soft.

_"Nothing is unobtainable to those who have the power to seek it."_

He stops playing Quidditch. People understand. It's too painful, they say. Too many memories. Take as long as you need.

Instead, he spends time indoors, burying himself in the darkest corners of the library. He draws serpents on scraps of parchment and burns all of his Muggle Studies books.

He reads the Prophet. Familiar names jump out at him. Malfoy. Lestrange. Dolohov. Wanted, wanted, wanted. Old names, old loyalties. New war.

At night he sleeps, and no longer dreams.

The sun rises, sets, and rises again. And the Gryffindor Common Room is the colour of spilled blood. It is not the first time, nor will it be the last.

The atmosphere is sombre, subdued. People sit in huddled groups, no one wanting to speak too loudly. There has been no laughter for days. The fire smoulders sullenly into ash, leaving an uncommon chill in the air. Someone chokes back a sob.

Harry doesn't tell them they're mourning the wrong death, that the _real _apocalypse began all too soon for them.

At first light, he steals away to the bathroom, the same bathroom where the fate of the world was changed, only no one knows it yet. For a long, long time, he listens to the drip and echo of water, the groaning of pipes, and something, _something, _stirring far below.

Green _Avada Kedavra's _burn across his waking lids.

A blushing child and screaming nameless victims.

There's always a girl, though. A red-head.

_Killing me won't achieve anything._

_Oh believe me, child, it will achieve so much._

It was surprisingly easy, after everything. _Avada Kedavra. _One flash. Ginny's body collapsed instantly, a crumpled pile on the slick bathroom tiles. She died as easily as the rest. There was nothing remarkable about her, after all. He had turned her prone figure over with his small foot, silently gazing down at her.

Ah yes, that had been sweet. That moment of revelation. _For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face…_

An upraised wand accompanied by a curving smile. _Don't you know me, Ginny? The one you hate the most..._

And Ginny really had loved him. That made it all the more ironic. It always came down to power and submission in the end.

And now his blood runs pure. Just the way it was always meant to be. He stares at himself in the mirror, and it is a pale face and dark eyes that gaze back, mouth thin as a knife's gash.

_It appears you were useful to me after, Harry Potter._

THE END


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